Page 31 of Rising Tiger

The air was thick with humidity and the scent of jet fuel. Around them the base roared with activity. Planes taxied, took off, and landed. A trio of helicopters thundered overhead in formation. A fleet of Boeing P-8s, the elite long-range maritime reconnaissance and antisubmarine warfare aircraft, sat nearby—the first ever to be sold by the Americans to an international partner. India had the fourth-largest air force in the world, and it always filled her with pride to see it at work.

“We have an office prepared for you,” said Lance Naik Khan, holding the door open for her. “Major Badal is back at the crash site, but has instructed that you receive full cooperation. Where would you like to begin?”

Asha consulted her watch. “I’d like to start with the chief flight mechanic.”

“Sergeant Siddiqui. Yes, ma’am. Let me radio the base repair depot.”

Lance Naik Khan then closed Asha’s door, walked around the rear of the vehicle, and hopped in behind the wheel. Firing up the Maruti, he put it in gear and headed for the BRD as he attempted to raise them on the radio.

It took a moment before they reached someone who could answer their question. The news that they delivered wasn’t good.

As the person who had signed off on the flight-worthiness of General Mehra’s helicopter, Siddiqui had been subjected to questions and interviews all day. The command staff had wanted to talk with him. His boss, and his boss’s boss, had then spent hours with him, going through every detail over and over again. After that, crash scene investigators had arrived and the process started all over.

Through it all, he had been calm, professional, and thorough. That had changed, however, when a call came in for him.

The person over the radio said he didn’t know who he had been speaking with, but that Siddiqui had become agitated and had rushed outof the depot. The chief flight mechanic had last been seen getting into his personal vehicle, a late-model, white Tata Tigor, and speeding off toward the main gate.

“How long ago?” the lance naik asked.

“Three minutes tops,” the voice replied.

“Get me to that gate,” Asha ordered the young DSC soldier.

She had no idea who had called Siddiqui, nor what had been said, but the fact that it had shaken him so thoroughly that he had taken off—before the end of his shift—disturbed her. It was critical that she get to him before he did something stupid, or disappeared altogether.

Lance Naik Khan deftly navigated the airfield and got them to the main gate just in time to see a white Tata Tigor exiting the base and accelerating as it turned right onto the main road.

There was a backup of cars ahead of them. Asha told Khan to go around them. When Base Security tried to wave them down and halt their vehicle, she had the lance naik give a quick hit of the strobes and bark the Klaxon. They weren’t stopping for anything. She wasn’t going to risk losing sight of Siddiqui.

Wherever the man was headed, he was hell-bent on getting there as fast as possible. Traffic was light, but as they got closer to the main part of town, it began to pick up.

Siddiqui started weaving in and out. It was not only making it difficult to follow him, but it was also incredibly dangerous. He was going to get somebody killed.

When the flight mechanic blew through a red light, Khan was forced to follow and missed being in a collision by mere inches.

Asha had had enough. She instructed the lance naik to reengage the strobes and Klaxon. Technically, any authority the DSC had ended at the exit of the base. At this point, however, all she wanted to do was get him to pull over and stop.

Siddiqui wasn’t interested. In fact, he sped up and began executing even more aggressive maneuvers.What the hell is wrong with this guy?Asha ordered Khan to stay with him.

In a narrow street in the Ganapathy neighborhood, the chase ended—at least the vehicle portion.

A delivery truck was stopped and there was no getting around it. There was no backing up, either. Siddiqui was boxed in and decided to abandon his car.

Pulling out her cell phone, Asha activated the voice memo feature and had the lance naik quickly rattle off his number. Then she exited the vehicle and headed after Siddiqui on foot.

He was significantly older than her and nowhere close to her level of physical fitness, yet he was as quick as lightning and moved like a man possessed. A car crash, she was realizing, was going to turn out to have been the least of her worries. This guy was going to drop dead any moment from a heart attack or a stroke.

Like Mumbai, the streets were packed with people coming and going, getting ready for another evening of Diwali. It made it difficult for Siddiqui to navigate. Asha was closing in on him.

They ran past a small hardware store and a popular party-themed chain called the Cake Point.

Near a shop that sold refurbished car and motorcycle tires, she was close enough for him to hear her. Yelling out his name, she ordered him to stop. He glanced briefly over his shoulder, but kept going. That was the last straw.

Kicking it into high gear, she ran as fast as she could—a full-out sprint. She didn’t slow down until she was close enough to reach out and grab the back of his collar. But that wasn’t what she did.

Instead, on a piece of rough, uneven pavement, she thrust both arms out and gave him a massive shove.

Siddiqui hit the ground so hard, he bounced.

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